Chapter 74: The Devil's Child, Garoth's Target

The one-eyed werewolf leader paced over to the cargo truck, nostrils flaring as it sniffed the cargo box, then grinned, revealing a row of sharp white fangs.

"What’s inside here?"

It asked.

"The dragon, dragon blood..." The apprentice began to speak but was interrupted by Nick: "Chicken Blood Stone, just some cheap Chicken Blood Stones."

The werewolf ignored him. With a swipe of its claw, the lock on the cargo box snapped open.

The moment the lid was lifted, the bright red Chicken Blood Stones piled inside were exposed to the sunlight. Their color was vivid but utterly void of any magical fluctuations. They were purely inferior goods, completely useless to the monster clans roaming the wilderness.

"Any black oil, mana crystals?"

The one-eyed werewolf asked in a deep voice, its eyes flashing fiercely.

Nick’s gaze flickered nervously as he hurriedly replied, "Powerful werewolf, sorry to disappoint you. Our merchant caravan didn’t bring those goods this time. But if you need them, I promise to return next time with black oil and mana crystals to trade, offering you the best prices."

The one-eyed werewolf grinned.

"Wolf cubs! Knock these humans out and bind them all! Anyone who resists gets slaughtered on the spot."

Nick was stunned: "Wait, wait!"

Before he could finish, a werewolf’s paw swung down.

The world spun wildly.

Nick’s last sight was the scorching white sky above as his ears rang with the shouts of his companions and the growls of the werewolves.

With Scarface the coachman’s example warning them, the others dared not resist. Even if they did, it would be a death trap. They obediently were knocked unconscious and bound.

Crescent Valley, territory of the Howling Moon Clan.

Under a night sky as black as velvet, a group of unconscious humans were brought here.

The Red Iron Dragon sat at the entrance of a shadowed cave on the rocky cliff, hidden in the dim light, his gaze calm and steady as he quietly watched the humans below.

More precisely, humans, and one ‘Devil’s Child.’

Garoth noticed the antelope-shaped twin horns atop the sorceress’s head and her green eyes, while also sensing the strange aura emanating from her—a mixture of evil and chaos, yet tinged with a hint of humanity.

At first glance, Garoth was puzzled. He wondered if some human had formed an extraordinary bond with an antelope, resulting in this horned sorceress.

But in the next instant, the Dragon Legacy knowledge naturally surfaced, revealing the truth.

This sorceress was not a pure human, nor a mere hybrid of human and antelope. Her race was called the Tiefling, a term which in the common tongue also means ‘Devil’s Child.’

Tieflings are humans with demonic bloodlines.

They descend from human blood but bear clear demonic traits in their appearance—their horns and tails mark their otherness.

In the human world—no, in the civilized world—Tieflings are despised wherever they go because of their demonic lineage.

They suffer the stares, fear, and mistrust of others.

Though Tieflings are not inherently evil, the vast majority eventually tread the path of darkness, which only deepens the stereotype held by intelligent beings, creating a vicious cycle.

“A Devil’s Child, discriminated against and shunned, paired with a rather shabby merchant caravan. This combination actually feels normal.”

Garoth thought.

“But why do this Tiefling woman’s eyes have pupils? The legacy says their eyes are pure color, no sclera or pupils.”

The Red Iron Dragon flicked his tail, puzzled.

Could it be that this Tiefling’s bloodline was mixed with something else? Interesting.

Meanwhile, a middle-aged werewolf splashed cold water on several of them, waking them from unconsciousness.

Through quasi-spell skill Mind Link, Garoth’s thoughts directly reached the old Shaman’s mind.

He did not appear, remaining hidden behind the scenes, while the old Shaman carried out his will. His gaze landed on the Tiefling and he said, “Devil’s Child, your green eyes resemble an elf’s more than a Tiefling’s.”

Margie was slightly startled.

She hadn’t expected the monster clan of the wilderness to know her identity.

In her impression, while the wilderness monster clans were intelligent, their understanding was shallow, their methods crude and brutal, making communication difficult.

On the other side, Nick heard the old Shaman’s words and his eyes brightened a little.

This old Shaman seemed different. He knew the Devil’s Child, knew the Tiefling, possessed knowledge other werewolves lacked, and appeared capable of communication.

If communication and negotiation were possible,

Nick was confident that with his silver tongue, he could at least earn a chance to survive.

If luck was on his side, maybe he could even establish stable trade with this werewolf clan, buying their pelts, claws and fangs, ores at low prices...

This was a money-making opportunity.

Merchants know how to dig out every profit chance.

Nick immediately spoke up with a smile, explaining on behalf of the inarticulate Margie: “Oh, knowing about Tieflings shows you are a wise and far-sighted werewolf elder.”

“Her eyes wear thin lenses that enhance iris color, a small gadget invented by alchemists, very popular in the southern civilized countries.”

Nick glanced meaningfully.

Margie silently removed the colored lenses, revealing a pair of pure-colored, somewhat enchanting green eyes.

“If you like such gadgets, or have any other preferences, I can bring them to you and offer the best prices. Of course, this depends on whether you spare us and give us a chance to build trust.”

Nick smiled broadly and said.

So it was just colored lenses... no wonder her eyes looked a little strange.

Garoth remained expressionless as his gaze shifted from the Tiefling sorceress to Nick.

This ordinary-looking merchant, exuding a hint of shrewdness, hadn’t caught Garoth’s attention at first. But his attempt to sell and establish trade amidst a circle of wolves piqued Garoth’s interest.

“This person might be useful.”

He thought, then transmitted the idea to the old Shaman.

The old Shaman understood immediately, asked Nick’s name, then bluntly said, “Human, I want black oil and mana crystals. Can you bring them?”

Black oil and mana crystals?

What would a monster clan in the wilderness want with those?

Both the Shaman before him and the one-eyed werewolf had mentioned black oil and mana crystals.

Nick glanced around with the corner of his eye but saw no large alchemical golems.

Though some werewolves wore alchemical gear, they didn’t need black oil or mana crystals.

For example, the steam truck Nick used to haul goods ran on fuel stones, a cheaper mineral than black oil.

Black oil was a more advanced energy source mainly used for alchemical golems or large alchemical devices. Mana crystals were similar but with higher energy efficiency.

“Of course, of course.”

Nick straightened his chest, even mustering courage to stand and dust off his clothes.

He bowed respectfully to the old Shaman and said, “Black oil has many uses. In the southern civilized countries, there are many legitimate ways to purchase it. As for mana crystals, though a bit troublesome, I can guarantee to bring some for you.”

Garoth flicked his dragon tail, narrowing his eyes.

Indeed, things hard to obtain in the wilderness can be easily acquired if there’s a reliable route to the southern countries, just like the ubiquitous but useless Chicken Blood Stone in the wilderness is a decent jewelry raw material in the south.

Some things

may be worthless at their origin,

but their value soars elsewhere.

And during this process, gaining a reliable, controllable, and sustainable ‘channel’ is the most important.

“You have earned a chance to live.”

The old Shaman smiled faintly, bared his fangs at Nick, then shifted tone: “But humans are always greedy and untrustworthy, especially human merchants.”

Nick’s heart skipped a beat.

He hurriedly said, “Oh, I swear by the souls of all my ancestors that I am different from other merchants. Everyone who has traded with me trusts me deeply because of my honesty.”